Perhaps if we had time for all this.
You know – hours, hell, days, or
even weeks, months, years more.
We could belly up to the bar, when-
ever and order from the top shelf,
settle in and watch the room fill,
listen to the general conversation
for the group, chat the bartender
up or the person on the next stool.
Enough time and we could sidle up
to the table and place a large bet,
perhaps all we have, on one number
and not care whether we win or
lose. We can always get more, earn
more, enough to keep going on and
on. We could play a round, skydive,
waterski, or walk down the darkest
street in the far worst part of town,
the part they always warn us about.
With all this time, we could run for
office and not care who won or lost.
We could sail around the world in
a small sailboat, watch whales breach,
watch sharks, see if punching a shark’s
nose really works. If I had time enough
I could sit here the rest of the hour,
the day, the week etc. and list all of
the things I could do with extra time, but
I don’t have that kind of time and/or
that kind of patience with me.
is a retired writing teacher and online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Third Wednesday, Black Coffee Review, Sparks of Calliope, Synchronized Chaos, Madswirl, Journal of Expressive Writing, Lightwood, and Highland Park Poetry.